Carl W. Kenney II is an award winning columnist and novelist. He is committed to engaging readers into a meaningful discussion related to matters that impact faith and society. He grapples with pondering the impact faith has on public space while seeking to understand how public space both hinders and enhances the walk of faith.

Friday, August 26, 2016

Plea bargain raises questions regarding justice

The sobs in the room said more than any statement could
make. There’s no way to restore faith in a system that offers a maximum
sentence of 44 years for the deaths of four young men.

“How do you sleep at night,” Lennis Harris Sr asked Rodrick
Vernard Duncan, 36, with deep pauses aimed at fighting back the tears. “I don’t
understand how a man can shoot people that they know, that they grew up with,
that you laughed and played with as children, how can you lay them down, look
them in the eye and shoot them in the head.”

Duncan pleaded guilty to the execution-style shootings of
Lennis Harris, Jr.,24, Lajuan Coleman, 27, Jonathan Skinner, 26, and Jamel
Holloway, 27. The frustration in the room intensified when the details of the
murders were read.

It’s not enough, members of the families moaned after the
plea agreement was announced -36-44 years in prison. The deep breaths could be
felt when the district attorney said second degree murder. Not first degree,
but something that felt like a devaluing of worth.

Was this the justice the family needed to end the torment
that began in 2005?

“I don’t know how to sleep at night,” Stacey Harris, Lennis’
sister and Jonathan Skinner’s cousin said. She talked about the challenges of
dating with no brother to talk about men.
“It’s hard for me to trust because of what you did.”

It’s been difficult for the family to move on since that
day. Lennis Harris Sr told Duncan he would have been the fifth victim if not
for the traffic following a fireworks display at Southpoint Mall.

“You missed one,” Harris said. “I wish I had been there so I
wouldn’t have to deal with this.”

Duncan nodded as he listened to the grief he caused. I
strained my eyes in search of tears or a body trembling to denote remorse deep
enough to help soothe the families pain.

Is it ever enough?

How much does it take to help ease the pain?

Marsha Harris talked about love and forgiveness. She asked
Duncan to become an example in prison. She said God has given her the strength
to love Duncan.

“I can’t do that,” Lennis Harris Sr said as his wife
Donnamaria robbed his back and I handed him another tissue to wipe the tears.
“Not now, I can’t do it now.”

Was this the justice the family prayed for when they marched
around the police headquarters? Was this enough to balance the rage stirred by
years of waiting? Why did it take so long to arrest the three men who
interpreted a video game match to kill sons, nephews and cousins that day? What
happened to the others involved?

The left side of the room was stacked with members of the
family. A few reporters took notes and recorded imagines for the evening
newscast. On the right side of the room, a handful of family friends and legal
professionals took up a few seats.

“We are in mourning because our sons black lives did not
matter enough for the community to protest, rally, demand justice and give up
the killers,” Donnamaria Harris, Lennis Sr’s wife, wrote in a text message sent
the next day. “We are mourning because the black community only demands justice
when a white officer kills a person of color.”

Harris asked a series of important questions.

Where are the marches and protest when black men kill black
men? Why does the community fall silent, deaf and blind when they know the
identities of those who kill black men?

“Why can’t black lives matter enough for people to turn in
the criminals who live among us,” Harris writes.

We departed the room with an emptiness roused by a plea
bargain that cheapened the lives taken. How much is the life of a black man
worth? Why did it take so long, and why this conclusion?

Is it ever enough?

How much does it take to make the tears go away – 50 years,
100 years, six life sentences? What does it take to make the nightmare go away?

The walk from the eighth floor courtroom to the parking deck
was dreamlike movement that hoped for answers in between each step. Each of us
wondered what would come next. The conclusion bonded those confused by the
sentence.

The nightmare hasn’t ended. The pain we carried into court
will follow us the rest of our lives. There will be no march begging for
justice. There will be no speeches about the cruelty of a system that attached
44 years as punishment for the death of four men.

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Carl W. Kenney II

Carl was named the best serious columnist of 2011 by the North Carolina Press Association for his work with the News & Observer's community paper The Durham News and in 2016 by the Missouri Press Association for his columns in the Columbia Missourian. He is a columnist with the News & Observer and Co-Executive Producer of "God of the Oppressed" an upcoming documentary film on black liberation theology. He is a former Adjunct Professor at the University of Missouri - School of Journalism and Adjunct Instructor at Duke University, the Center for Documentary Studies. He received his Bachelor’s degree in Journalism from the University of Missouri-Columbia. He furthered his education at Duke University and attained a Master of Divinity. He was named a Fellow in Pastoral Leadership Development at the Princeton Theological Seminary on May 14, 2005. He is a freelance writer with his commentary appearing in The Washington Post, Religious News Services,The Independent Weekly and The Durham Herald-Sun. Carl is the author of two novels: “Preacha’ Man” and the sequel “Backslide”.
He has led congregations in Missouri and North Carolina